Darkness Before the Sun Rises
by Krisitna
Summary: In the midst of a war, Harry Potter is injured, Ronald Weasley has gone missing and Hermione Granger is left all alone, until Draco Malfoy comes to her rescue.
1. Default Chapter

Darkness Before The Sun Rises   
  
Chapter 1

"Harry look out!" Hermione screamed as she watched a spark emit from an unfriendly wand and shoot out towards her best friend. Harry dodged the spark but missed another one coming from an entirely different direction. It hit him in the shoulder, causing him to barrel backwards into the cold snow. Hermione, frightened, rushed to him amidst the colorful sparks shooting through the air. "Harry? Harry?! Answer me." She had knelt down in the cold Earth, the moisture of the snow seeping through her robes. Harry's head lay in her lap as the sounds of screams and vicious laughs surrounded her. "Please wake up, please." Tears were streaming down her face along with blood from her own wounds.   
  
Green eyes fluttered open and rested upon Hermione's. Hermione gasped in relief at seeing those familiar eyes shine back at her. "Don't cry 'Mione." Harry croaked. "It doesn't suit you." He tried to smile, and did, though the pain it caused was visible in the lines etched on his face.   
  
"Hold still Harry, I am going to try and heal some of your wounds. Okay?" He only nodded as Hermione set about trying various incantations that took medi-witches years to learn, but for her only about sixteen months. Wound after wound started to heal but some wouldn't. Dark magic she presumed. It was supposed to be forbidden but that didn't stop those on the dark side from using it. "That's all I can do Harry? Does it feel any better?" She grasped a hold of his hand in reassurance.   
  
"Yes." He whispered, trying to hide the fact that the curse that knocked him down was still penetrating throughout his body, making it feel as if tiny nails were pricking his skin. He wouldn't tell Hermione that though. He didn't want her to worry. "I'm fine dear, just fine." He reassured.   
  
Over the years, Harry had grown and matured into kind and amorous wizard. He had given his life for those around him, even for those that seemed to hate him, but he did it because he loved his world. Ron and Hermione were always there for him, never running away scared when Harry had to battle some villain. Ron would always joke around and refuse to be serious, making things very light-hearted. Hermione was always the down-to-Earth type girl and would watch out for the two head-strong boys. Ron was his best friend and Hermione, well she was his best friend as well, but she was once more, as his girlfriend for one unforgettable year and now she was more of the sister he had never had..   
  
"Was it Voldemort who hit you?" She questioned, looking around, noticing more bodies strewn about the ground.   
  
"No. His would have killed me. He's not here tonight, just his cronies. " He stroked her hand in a rhythmic pattern that he knew would help ease her.   
  
"How do you know Harry?" She looked around once again, as if searching for someone.   
  
"I would have felt it, remember? My scar?" Realization dawned upon her face, followed by a look that he knew all too well. Hermione was mentally slapping herself for the dumb question that she should have known the answer to.   
  
"Hermione? Where's Ron?" Harry asked, looking frantically about.   
  
"I don't know. The last I saw him was over by the lake. He said he'd be fine." She looked about her for Ron but he was nowhere to be seen. The grip of fear grasped at her being; the coldness of it seeped through her mind as she thought of Ron. Where could he be? Could he be dead? She was panicking, something she had once taught herself not to do in instances such as these. "Harry, you don't think…"   
  
Harry cut her off before the inviolable thought could cross her mind. "No! He's fine, just like he said he'd be. Don't think of that Hermione, don't you ever think that." As friends, they had agreed to never think the worse of each other's fate until certain and undeniable evidence surfaced that would sway them to believe otherwise.   
  
"Okay Harry. I won't, I just hope he's okay." She responded nervously, while tending to the wound on his shoulder that would still not heal.   
  
"He will be, Hermione." He attempted a weak smile through the pain escalating through his shoulder as each second passed. He wouldn't voice how much the wound hurt, nor how it seemed to worsen as each second passed. He couldn't cause her to worry any more than she already had that night. Instead, he grit his teeth and hoped that it would eventually dwindle away like all the other injuries he had received in battles such as these.

* * *

"My lord, the forces are advancing wonderfully, just as our - I mean - your plan said they would." Lucius Malfoy announced to Lord Voldemort himself.   
  
"Very good Lucius. What about Potter? What's the news on the boy?" His dark, penetrating eyes pierced through the dark hood he wore into the eyes that looked back at him. If Lucius hadn't been a follower for years, those eyes would be the only thing that could frighten him.   
  
"Reports say he is injured and with that filthy mudblood, Granger, my lord." Lucius replied in a monotone voice, the same one he and all the other Death Eaters used when in the presence of their Dark Lord, and one another.   
  
"Brilliant. Just where we wanted him. What about the other one? Ronald Weasley?" Voldemort questioned, looking over the battlefield as sparks continued to illuminate the night sky.   
  
"There has been no news of the younger male Weasley in hours my lord." Lucius responded, bowing slightly to Voldemort.   
  
"How odd. Well, tell the sources to find out!" Voldemort roared at Lucius, who rushed off to find out any news he could procure.   
  
"Soon, Potter, you will be mine!" His laughter rang until the early hours of the morning.

* * *

"Master Malfoy?" A small house elf knocked on the large wooden door obstructing her path to her owner's room. "Master Malfoy, sir. Dolly has your food sir." With that, the door was opened for the old female elf, who slowly made her way into her master's room. "Is everything to your liking sir? If not, Dolly will return with anything her master desires." Dolly gave a deep curtsy that pained her old bones, but she would never allow for her master to see the pain bore into her face.   
  
"No Dolly, everything is fine." The master promiscuously thanked in his own way, not exactly saying it, but being somewhat kind and dignified in the same stature. "Have you any word of the battle, Dolly?" He asked inquisitively.   
  
"Yes sir, but only what us house elves have heard sir, though Dolly is not sure if it be safe to repeat it." She looked around, afraid for even answering that she had news for her master. She was afraid that if she were to speak what she had heard from the Death Eaters down stairs, they would find a way to punish her.   
  
"Dolly, no need to worry. I am your master, not they. Now tell me what you have heard."   
  
"Only very little sir. Word has it that Mr. Potter was wounded by some Dark Magic and is being tended to by a Miss. Granger. The Dark Side seems to have the upper hand in this fight. Many have died tonight sir, especially…. on the other side." He nodded in understanding. By the "other side", Dolly meant the side he secretly fought for. Not physically, but in his heart he supported that side wholeheartedly, and nothing - not even his father - would change that.

* * *

_I hope that you all liked this first chapter. I know it is a little short, but trust me the next ones a quite a bit longer! I have three more chapters that are waiting to be put up. It would be nice to receive a few reviews. They (the reviews) let me know that I am doing something right when it comes to my writing. Just let me know how I am doing. The reviews you all leave will also keep me motivated when writing. :D  
  
Also, I would like to thank my wonderful Beta Reader! She knows who she is. :D_


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness Before The Sun Rises   
  
Chapter 2

* * *

"How's he doing?" asked the aged headmaster, Dumbledore.   
  
"I'm afraid his condition has worsened overnight, sir. There is very little we can do for him. It was dark magic, and only one familiar with it can perform the counter curse; we unfortunately cannot." The healer gave a small bow of the head as she went to check on another patient.   
  
"Well Mr. Potter, you've certainly outdone yourself this time. This definitely tops all the other injuries you've had." Professor Dumbledore mused, trying to add humour to the bleak situation by recalling the countless times the boy had been hurt over the years. Though his façade let him believe that everything was fine, he knew that the situation was severe. Dumbledore shook his head as he looked at the young boy, who was on the verge of becoming a man. In fact, one could say he already was. He had been through more in the seven years at Hogwarts than a normal wizard would face in all his existence. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was barely doing that now. One curse could shatter the existence of the entire wizarding world; except those on the other side. "Maybe I was wrong to put so much pressure on you at such a young age, Harry. I hope you will forgive me." Dumbledore said to himself while patting Harry's hand before slowly getting up and remorsefully leaving the room.   
  
Moments later, the doors opened to reveal a witch, barely eighteen years old, running towards the bed of Harry Potter. Her hair was frazzled; but not like it had been when she was younger. Age had certainly improved her looks. A healer followed the witch in, shouting, "Miss. Excuse me Miss. You can't go in there, It's off limits." Only those with high authority were allowed into Harry Potter's hospital room, as it was closely guarded and restricted to all outside civilians.  
  
"I can go in there! He's my best friend." Hermione swung around to face. "My name is Hermione Granger. I doubt Professor Dumbledore would object to me being here. Go on and ask him." The healer stood there dumbfounded, astonished that someone as young as Miss. Granger would have the audacity to talk to her in such a tone.   
  
Seeing that the healer was no longer trying to prevent her entry, Hermione rushed over to the bedside of her best friend. "Oh Harry. Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" She sighed out loud and intertwined her hand with his. She looked his body up and down; the sheets came up to his abdomen and he had no shirt on as the upper half of his chest was wrapped in bandages. They weren't clean and crisp like most were, instead the bandage was turning redder by the minute. Hermione willed herself not to cry. She knew the situation was bad, very bad. Harry could die from losing so much blood and what was worse, was that her other best friend was nowhere to be seen. The reports she had heard said that the red-head was missing. It was all too much tragedy for her sensitive heart to endure; even though she tried to put up a brave front, it would soon be crashing down.   
  
"Hermione?" A weak voice asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.   
  
"Harry! You're awake." He winced from the shout but managed to smile anyway. "How are you feeling?" She questioned, although she pretty much knew what the answer would be.   
  
"Peachy, just peachy," He kidded, which earned him a stern look from Hermione. "Honestly, not too well, but no need to worry." He brought a hand to her face and wiped away a tear that had fallen. "Please Hermione, don't cry." He whispered.  
  
"Oh Harry. How can I not? You're literally bleeding to death, and Ron has gone missing." She hadn't meant to repeat the last bit for fear that it would cause Harry's condition to worsen.   
  
"What do you mean he's gone missing?" He demanded. Hermione didn't answer, and Harry was alarmed at the frightening revelation. "Hermione, answer me! What do you mean he's gone missing?"   
  
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "He has been missing since the battle two days ago. He hasn't been seen since he was fighting by the lake. There has been no news as to whether he's…" She couldn't finish it; the look on Harry's face wouldn't allow her to. Harry's world was crumbling around him, and the effects of it could be seen in his eyes. The eyes that held such happiness were darkening as each second passed. "Harry…"   
  
"Go, Hermione." He whispered, not bothering to look at her.   
  
"What?!" She didn't believe her ears.   
  
"Go away. Please just leave."   
  
"But Harry…" She tried to grasp his hand, but he pulled it away from her.  
  
"I said leave! GO AWAY!" He yelled at her, his voice trembled and his arm was outstretched in a painful gesture, pointing towards the door. His voice still echoed through the quiet room as she got up from her position on the bed and ran to the door, tears cascading from her eyes. At the door, she risked a glance back to see Harry breathing hard and clutching his chest. She bowed her head and left the room.   
  
She ran, not knowing what else she could do. She was now alone. Alone to finally come to terms with the situation at hand and to the realization that she had no one to help her in her time of need. She had to deal with the revelations that Ron Weasley was possibly… dead, and that Harry Potter might be classified as thus in a matter of weeks, maybe even days. Tears spilled from her chocolate brown eyes and froze to her face as snow began to fall in the cold December months.   
  
Hermione didn't know where she had run to until she finally stopped to take in her surroundings. She found herself in a dark alley, surrounded by people giving her inquisitive looks. The shops were all dark and bleak and the inhabitants were wearing old and musty clothes. She glanced into a shop nearby and nearly screamed at seeing the body of a man on a table and the shopkeeper cutting it apart.   
  
"What you doing down here, little pretty?" A man in a drab and dusty outfit asked. He had a huge wart on the side of his face and his teeth, at least the ones he had, were hideously yellow.   
  
Hermione couldn't bring herself to answer. She just stood there staring at the wart; wishing Harry and Ron were with her to fend off this vile creature.   
  
"Answer me girl, what you doing down here?" He grasped her arm and Hermione barely suppressed a scream. "Ah, we're lost are we? Well, do you know what we do to those who wander so willingly into Knockturn Alley?" With that, he leered at the crowd that was beginning to form into a circle behind him.   
  
"Alfie, do it! We haven't had the pleasure of seeing one so young scream in years. Though now that I think about it, the only one stupid enough to venture down here was that insufferable Harry Potter. Too bad that oaf Hagrid came to his rescue," An old woman rambled, feeling distinguished enough to actually talk.   
  
"Mildred, shut up you old hag!" Alfie bellowed. "Now what to do with you, my pretty?"   
  
Hermione looked around for a friendly face; someone who would show sympathy and help her out of this predicament. There was no such person amongst the crowd of spectators. She looked back at the threatening villain in front of her and saw him take out his wand. Her eyes grew wide as he dusted it off.   
  
"Well, me pretty, you'd best be saying goodbye." He laughed.   
  
Hermione knew she wasn't ready to die and she sure wasn't going to die at the hands of some… foul creature. She found her voice at that moment. "Unhand me at once you disgusting rogue!" She shouted. The man and the crowd were stunned to actually hear the witch speak.   
  
"So, you can actually talk. All the better - now we'll get to hear you scream." He laughed and whispered an incantation into his wand too quiet for her to hear and seconds later, she was hit with a curse that pierced through her body. Sharp pains gripped at every limb and she let out a scream, hoping it would relieve some of the torment. Her body fell to the ground, shaking tremendously as the curse continued to seize her small frame. She could hear the laughter of the audience and the pleasure it was bringing them to see her screaming and thrashing about.   
  
It seemed that ages swept by and all she could think about was Ron and Harry; nothing else eased her mind but the love she had for her two best friends. The many years they had spent together flashed through the back of her mind. All their happy memories and even a few sad ones. It was as if her life were playing before her eyes.   
  
"Let her go!" A male voice from the back of the crowd bellowed.   
  
Hermione could hear the gasps of the audience and the silence that overtook the once loud, rambunctious crowd. "Release her from the curse." It sounded as if the voice was straining to keep hold of its temper, though the curse still had control over her after the mysterious person demanded it be removed. "I said take it off of her now!" This time it was a shout. The man's voice roared at the oaf Alfie who mumbled to himself. Hermione could hear nothing of what was going on as she slipped in and out of consciousness. All she knew was that one minute she was begging for the world to black out, and in the next, the curse was lifted.   
  
Hermione felt as if all the energy within her had been sucked out, she was still shaking from the effects of the curse. She was still on the ground, unable to move from the spell placed upon her.   
  
"What are you all staring at?" The man who had saved her questioned. At that, the crowd began to disperse and filter away from the entertaining scene. "Are you alright?" He asked, placing a cold hand on her shoulder.   
  
Neither could see the other's face. Hermione had her head in her hands, willing herself not to cry. She nodded nonetheless.   
  
"Here, let me help you up." He took hold of her arm and helped her into a standing position. "Granger!" The voice gasped, a mix of astonishment and disgust was apparent. He flung his hands away from her; leaving her to stumble backwards against a wall that was sturdy enough to support her weak frame.   
  
She finally looked up at her rescuers' face and nearly passed out. "Malfoy?" She breathed. She didn't have the energy to think of any insults to throw at him, and since he had just helped her, she felt it was in her best interest to avoid thrashing insults at him.   
  
"What the hell are you doing down here, mudblood?" He snarled; obviously disgusted by her presence. How could he have helped someone as low as she? Then it dawned on him that, in fact, he had never seen her face! A loophole. He swelled with satisfaction; realizing that he found a way to justify his actions. He mentally patted himself on the back as he continued to snarl at the girl in front of him.   
  
"Look Malfoy, I don't feel up to quarrelling with you right now, so if you'll just excuse me and let me be on my way," she mumbled, trying to push her way past the opposition blocking her escape from the hellhole she was in. She managed to take a few wobbly steps before he stopped her.   
  
"No, I don't think I will. I want to know why you were down here." He stared down at her in defiance, waiting for her to boil with anger. It was like a game to him, just to see how quickly he could piss off the mudblood.   
  
"Listen you stupid ferret; I have places to go so let me by. You've done your good deed, now run along back to your little Death Eater friends. You and those scumbags have done enough damage as it is!" She spat out, keeping Harry and Ron on her mind. He was involved with the Death Eaters and for that reason she hated him with every ounce of her being.   
  
"Shows how much you know, mudblood," he said with malice. "Now, where exactly is it that you need to be? Perhaps St. Mungo's with dear Potter?" He chuckled at her shocked expression. She obviously assumed he didn't know about Potter.   
  
"How- how did you know about Harry?" She asked, totally dumbfounded.   
  
"I have my sources," he responded casually.   
  
"Oh that's right. Your fellow Death Eaters' reports!" She spat out, once again trying to push her way past the insufferable git.   
  
He pushed the mudblood back against the wall and placed his hands on each side of her, against the wall. "Listen you filthy mudblood! How I get my information is no concern of yours, but get this straight. I do not have, nor will I ever have, any type of relations with those Death Eaters." Each word was forced out with so much malice towards her and the Death Eaters that it made Hermione quake with fear. "Now, I know that your precious Potter is in St. Mungo's because of an injury obtained from the battle two days ago and I know of Ron's disappearance."   
  
"What do you know of Ron?! Do you know where he is? Is he alright?!" She pushed him away from her as question after question poured out of her mouth. As the worry for Ron mounted, the longer Malfoy stood there and smirking at her.   
  
"Do you ever shut up?" He took a few steps away from her and ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath in, trying to sooth the frustration that was still mounting inside him. "Look Granger, I know nothing of your dear precious Weasel; only what I have heard from the reports given to me," his monotone voice displayed how bored he was talking to the girl. How many times must he repeat the same information for the daft witch before the information sank into that thick head of hers?!  
  
"Oh." She lowered her head and willed herself not to let the tears that were threatening to spill escape. She tried to not let them surface, but her attempts failed miserably. Her body was suddenly racked with the sobs that had been threatening to escape all day.   
  
Draco stood there listening to the mudblood in front of him cry her eyes out. At first he rolled his eyes at how pathetically weak she was, and nearly laughed, but reconsidered this action. He actually began to feel pity for the lowly creature. She was losing all that she had known. Weasley was missing, possibly dead, and Potter was dying in a nearby hospital. He sighed and rid himself of the menacing stare that he always used with the muggle born and instead tried to talk to her with a civilized tone. "Look Granger, stop crying. You'll drown us all in your tears." He tried to be witty to provoke her into biting back with a clever remark, but his attempts were futile. "Look, I don't know where Weasley is, okay?" But still the witch cried, and he had to restrain himself from throwing his hands in the air in frustration. He looked around as if looking for help. He took notice that they were still in Knockturn alley and that the sun was beginning to go down. He bet all the money he had in his Gringotts account that she had no idea as to how to get out of there. He rolled his eyes, realizing that he was obligated to help her again. "Do you know how to get out of here, Granger?" Why he was being benevolent, he didn't know.   
  
Hermione looked up at him. Had he just showed some sort of compassion for her well-being? She scoffed. A Malfoy showing compassion towards another human being was absolutely preposterous! "Yes I know the way out, Malfoy!" She spat out his name and hoped she sounded confident, but in reality she had no clue as to where she was.   
  
"Did anyone ever tell you how bad you are at lying, Granger?" The sneer was back.   
  
"Excuse me?" She spat with her nose scrunched and an incredulous look on her face.   
  
"Just shut up and follow me." He grumbled and started walking away. He took a few steps and turned back around. "Well, are you coming or did you plan on staying here all night?" At that, Hermione obediently followed him as he led the way through the ghastly streets of Knockturn Alley. They passed many shops that she had never heard of. There was a shop for nearly all things evil; a shop where one could find body parts, another that sold Dark Arts materials; and not surprisingly, a shop that sold Voldemort memorabilia. The people of Knockturn Alley were frightening. They were the complete opposite of those in Diagon Alley; these people, if one could call them such, wore clothes that looked as if they were from centuries ago. Nearly all their faces were gruff and dirty, most covered with soot. If she looked at any of them, they would give her curious glares; others would try their best to scare her. Quite a few times, she had lost sight of Malfoy and nearly had a heart attack as the residents of the Alley surrounded her until Malfoy eventually return, sending her an annoyed look.   
  
Finally, after what seemed like forever, they were back on the clean streets of Diagon Alley. As Hermione nearly leapt for joy, Draco turned around to face her, with a smug expression. "This is where I leave you, Granger. Try not to get lost in there again; I won't be there to save you every time." With that, he turned to leave.   
  
She watched him walk away before shouting, "Malfoy!" He turned around and looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She ran to him and stopped to look at him. "I just wanted to say thank you."   
  
He didn't meet her eyes; he stared at the snow-cover ground a few feet in front of her with a furrowed brow. Eventually, he nodded and mumbled, "Right..." His eyes still did not meet hers; he looked lost in thought for a moment, before turning sharply and leaving her in the middle of the street.

* * *

I would just like to thank those that reviewed my last chapter! As you can see, this one is greatly longer than the last, just like I promised, so I hope you enjoyed it. This chapter is about 3, 250 words. I usually write somewhere over 2000 words a chapter - just to let you know.

Please drop me a review. I have two more chapters that are currently being revised and will go up shortly!


	3. Chapter 3

Darkness Before The Sun Rises  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Making her way through the harsh December snow, Hermione made her way back through Diagon Alley, thankful to be back on the familiar streets. She never wanted to be reminded of Knockturn Alley and earlier events for as long as she lived. If it hadn't been for -she grimaced - Malfoy, she would probably be dead. That thought raced through her mind as the wind rustled through her mass of hair and chilled her face, making her cheeks and nose go nearly numb. The thought was unbearable and she willed herself not to think of it, but how could she not? The man in Knockturn Alley was ready to kill her with an Unforgivable. He had tortured her with, what Hermione assumed to be, the Cruciatus curse. Eventually she would have died, she knew that from just looking at the repulsive being down in the Alley. She shook, not from the cold, but from the fear of knowing that her life had been jeopardy, and the realization that she would have never again seen all the things that meant so much to her. The smiling faces of Ron and Harry; the clumsy moments brought about Neville; Ginny's gentle personality; and dare she think it, Malfoy's insufferable ego.   
  
That's when all thoughts switched from her brush with death to the Slytherin who had saved her. She could not fathom as to why, of all people, Malfoy had been the one to rescue her. He had pushed his way through the crowd and made that awful man sojourn her torture. He had always hated her, but in that moment he had shown an ounce of compassion for another human being. The reason behind it boggled her. This was a person that had tormented her, called her a Mudblood, and even wished she would be the Basilisk's victim in second year! Why now, why would he care one bit about her?   
  
The questions continued to plague the young witch's mind as she finally reached the road that led to Hogwarts. She realized long before that it was pointless to try and see Harry at St. Mungo's, as he would probably send her away again. Harry not wanting her around also saddened her - he was hurt and she should be there, not outside trampling in the snow! No, she should be by his bedside, urging the raven-haired boy to recover! But Harry didn't want her; he didn't want her at all. Hermione tried to reason with herself, arguing that it was all because of Ron's disappearance that Harry was acting the way he was, but part of her wondered if she had in fact done something to make him feel he had to push her and all those around him away.  
  
Finally, as if by a small miracle, the familiar landscape of Hogwarts castle loomed in the distance. "Not much further." Hermione whispered to herself. She was anxious to get inside the warm walls of her safe haven but was also apprehensive because Ron and Harry would be everywhere. Not physically, but metaphysically, as everything in the dear old castle would remind her of them. It would seem to a spectator that Hermione was already mourning her two friends; and in actuality she was mourning them, but not in the sense of dying. Instead she was mourning the fact that the two were not with her. Ron was somewhere unknown; possibly in a dungeon in some Death Eater's mansion or had been obliterated by a Death Eater's wand. Harry, on the other hand was nearby, but she couldn't be with him and he couldn't be with her.   
  
Sighing out loud as her feet finally carried her inside the warm entrance of Hogwarts, Hermione allowed her feet to guide her en route to the Gryffindor Common Room. She kept her eyes down the entire way, afraid that if she looked up, she would see something that symbolized the two most important people in her life. Upon arriving at the portrait, Hermione looked up to see the Fat Lady snoozing away. There was no mystery as to why the Fat Lady always slept, as she did it incessantly when students were away from the common room. Hermione gave a small cough and the Fat Lady awoke with a start. She looked around until her eyes settled. Her nose traveled higher into the air and her chin stuck out.   
  
"Password please." The Fat Lady requested in a most expectant voice.  
  
"Hydra Cetus." Hermione spoke and watched as the Fat Lady swung her frame open, allowing entrance for the Gryffindor.  
  
Hermione stepped into the warm confines of the Gryffindor Common Room, thankful that it was empty of her fellow housemates. She unclasped her cloak and draped it over the back of one of the plush, red velvet couches set in front of the fire hearth. Still feeling the effects of the cold, she reluctantly allowed herself to sit down and warm up by the fire. Her mind was blank; no thoughts ran through her head. She just stared at the coals crackling from the heat they were forced to endure. She marveled at the way those little black embers could cause such warmth.   
  
Hermione looked around the room and took notice of all the Christmas decorations that she helped put up. There was a string of garland hanging from the fire mantle and on the mantle itself were candles that she had charmed to stay lit until the day after Christmas. The windows were magically frosted over and candles were placed on the sills. Since the room was already red, the students agreed that there was no need to change the color of the room. The tree in the corner, to the left of the fireplace was decorated with tinsel, popcorn, and Christmas ornaments that each student put on there to symbolize something that meant a great deal to them. She could still see the three she, Ron and Harry had placed on there just a few weeks before. It brought a smile to her face, remembering that day.   
  
It was an ordinary Saturday; the three friends had nothing to do but get into as much mischief as they wanted. Hermione though, would not let the boys do such a thing. She insisted that everyone in Gryffindor decorate the tree that Hagrid had brought for them all. There were groans and a few cheers of excitement, mainly from the females, but eventually everyone joined in with decorating the tree. The trio were the last to place their ornaments on the enormous tree. Harry placed a picture of his mum and dad on one of the tree branches, Ron a Chudley Cannons key chain and Hermione a moving picture of the three of them joking around last Christmas in the snow.   
  
Hermione's moving picture waved at her from the tree. She couldn't prevent the tears from welling up into her eyes as she watched the three of them have such a merry time the year before. She could still vividly recall every Christmas since the three of them had become such close friends. The first few years were all so carefree and full of fun and laughter. These last few were still happy and memorable, but also held the shadow of darkness over their world and all those in it; particularly Harry. Over the past four years, he had been put through so much anguish and torment that she still could not fathom as to how he managed to stay sane, much less alive. Voldemort had returned to full supreme power in their fourth year and since then Harry had battled with him and other forces that threatened, not only his existence, but also those who he cared deeply for. This year in particular, Voldemort was as strong as ever and had been attacking all term.  
  
Classes had been interrupted on a few occasions because of Voldemort's attacks, but Hermione and her fellow schoolmates still managed to clock in some time for classes and homework amongst battling the Dark Lord. It was difficult to manage, but somehow they all managed to complete their assignments.  
  
A soft creak at the Common Room entrance stirred Hermione from her thoughts and caused her to glance over in the general direction. Students were starting to pile in the Common Room; classes for the day were obviously over. Some of her housemates glanced at her and gave her a small smile, then continued walking. When Ginny, Neville, and Seamus came in, they immediately rushed over to her for any news she might have.   
  
Ginny enveloped Hermione into a comforting hug before asking a question Hermione had expected from the younger girl. "Is there any news on Ron?" Her eyes were underlined with dark circles and had a slightly distant look about them, most likely from the lack of sleep over the past few days.   
  
Hermione shook her head and once again hugged the younger Weasley once again. "I'm sorry Ginny. I'm really, really sorry. There's no news."   
  
Ginny bowed her head and sniffled. She took one look around her at Hermione and the two boys before taking off towards the girls' dormitory. Hermione didn't follow her. She didn't know what to say to her friend.   
  
"How are you doing, Hermione?" Neville's voice piped in, causing Hermione to focus her attention to the two boys seated near her. Neville gave her a small smile as she looked at him.  
  
"I'm fine, Neville. Just tired." She gave a small, reassuring smile before taking his hand and giving it a tiny squeeze.   
  
"We're really sorry about Harry and Ron." Seamus finally spoke up..  
  
"No need to be sorry, Seamus. Harry will… pull through, and Ron… will… be alright." It took all the willpower she possessed to keep the tears from resurfacing. She thought she could be strong enough to handle talking to her friends, but she wasn't. She wasn't ready for the endless questions everyone had for her, regarding her two best friends. "Uh… listen, I'm going to head to bed. I'll see you later." With that, Hermione stood up, grabbed her cloak off the back of the couch and disappeared through the portrait hole.   
  
Once out in the hall, Hermione ran down the dark corridors before reaching the Head Girl and Head Boy common room. She leant against the wall, trying to catch her breath, when suddenly she felt her world shatter to pieces. Everything she had been holding in over the past couple days found its way out and her heart finally broke.  
  
Hermione slid down the wall and wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her face into her knees while she cried. She cried for Ron; she cried for Harry. She cried for Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family. She cried for those that had died because of Voldemort, and for those that would perish before the end of the war. She cried over the events that had happened that day in Diagon Alley. But most of all, she cried for herself and how alone she felt.

* * *

_I wanted to personally thank these three people: snow-angel222, Darkaus, and FlooCrookshanks for reviewing the first two chapters! Your comments and review meant a great deal to me. Truly they did. As my beta would tell you, I was extremely excited when I read the reviews! Thanks a great deal you all._

_Also, if you haven't reviewed, please consider doing so. :D Chapter 4, is nearly complete and will be up very soon._


	4. Chapter 4

Darkness Before the Sun Rises  
  
Chapter 4

_I noticed that in the chapters before this, I never included a Disclaimer, so I thought that I would finally include one. I do not own Harry Potter (my friend Allie wants to though) nor do I own any of the characters mentioned. All ideas are mine and though they are not copy-written I would appreciate it, if you would not use those. If it were not for the genius mind of J.K. Rowling, I would not be able to write this, so 99.9% of the credit goes to her._

* * *

Pure-blooded wizard, Draco Malfoy, strut through the dark hallways of Hogwarts Castle en route to his common room. Though the events of the day had been relatively boring, he was thoroughly exhausted. His mind had been reeling with questions since mid-afternoon over a certain Gryffindor mudblood. He searched his brain for any plausible reason as to why he had helped her, but found nothing. Finally he gave up as his thoughts continuously circled, never once getting a clear or concise reason for his actions.   
  
Draco ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Why couldn't he get that pathetic excuse of a witch off his mind?! It was disturbing; something as low as the dirt on his feet shouldn't occupy his mind. Instead, he should be thinking of more important things, like those of Voldemort, his plans after he graduated, and his Gringotts account. But no, he was thinking of the witch he happened to share a bloody common room with.   
  
All term he had to endure Granger and her snot-nosed self. He was blatantly sick of it and everything about her. Sure, they didn't fight as often, but that didn't make them friends now did it? He had to sit through hours of quiet torture as she sat studying at her desk on the opposite side of the room, surrounded with stacks of books. Any time he made a noise, she sent him a look that shut him up.  
  
On many occasions - particularly the ones where he had wanted to ruffle a few of her feathers - he managed to get a rise out of the mudblood, which resulted in a thrilling and satisfying argument. Her face would turn beet red, her hands hanging in fists at her sides as she tried to control her anger. She would shout the entire tower down if she were not afraid of getting in trouble, but many times, she _had_ shouted. Draco would usually stand back and smirk or laugh at her incredulous banters, which normally caused her to only yell more. Though on one rare occasion the witch had had the audacity to smack him. Before then, she hadn't smacked him since third year, but that night he had gone so far as to insult her parents, and for that she had smacked the shit out of him. The small handprint on the side of his face had taken hours to disappear, he vividly recalled. Every time he thought about that day, he could still feel the sting.  
  
Rounding another corner, Draco's thoughts continued to swirl around Granger. The dark hallway hid everything that was more than three feet away. Pictures left and right were snoozing away; some mumbled in their sleep.   
  
All was at peace in the Hogwarts castle. All but a soft scrape against the stone floor that rang through the hallway.   
  
His ears alerted themselves to the sound and he suddenly froze on the spot, whipped out his wand, and pointed it in front of him.   
  
There was silence. The sound a few seconds prior seemed to have just been a figment of his imagination.   
  
Draco scolded himself for being such a pansy. If his legs could perform the movement, he would have kicked himself in the arse for his moment of weakness.   
  
But there it was again! The same sound he had heard! Surely this time he wasn't hallucinating.   
  
"_Lumos_."   
  
The top of Draco's wand emitted a bright light from the tip of it, allowing him to see a fraction more of the corridor he was in. He waved it in all directions, receiving cries from the sleeping portraits to put the light out. Some weren't as nice and yelled a few obscenities at the Slytherin. Draco just smirked and made sure to hold his wand even closer to the portraits that had the impudence to curse at him.  
  
"Bloody portraits," he mumbled, advancing forward with utmost caution.   
  
Another scrape of a foot on the hard floors rang through the quiet corridor and this time, he was able to detect where the sound had originated.  
  
The sound was coming from his common room. Perhaps it was Pansy Parkinson, a good friend of his. He soon against that possibility, knowing she would be sleeping in the Slytherin dormitories at this time of night. He racked his brain for someone, anyone, who could possibly be in the heads' office at such a late hour. Maybe, it was one of Granger's pesky Gryffindor friends. They always seemed to lurk around this corridor. It was probably the illustrious red-head's sister, crying her poor little eyes out about her dear lost brother.  
  
Draco rounded a final corner and stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn't Pansy. It wasn't even the Weasley girl…  
  
It was Granger.   
  
He rolled his eyes when she looked up at him. Her face was tear-streaked; her hair in complete disarray, and now she was looking at him like a deer trapped in headlights, expecting him to say something.  
  
So he did.   
  
"What the hell are you doing out here, Granger? Did you forget the password?"   
  
He looked down his nose at the girl on the floor; her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She did not reply; just sat there looking incredulously at him as though he had two heads.   
  
"Stupid mudblood," he mumbled, before walking past her to the portrait of their common room.   
  
"Spectrum."   
  
With that, the portrait opened and allowed Draco to enter. He stepped inside the warm confines of the Head's common room. It was rather nice compared to the dungeons; a vast improvement indeed. It was decked out in a mixture of the Slytherin and Gryffindor colours and felt like Christmas all year round with green and red being the predominate colours. He took two steps in and then turned around to see Granger still outside. She had finally got to her feet, but for some reason she wouldn't enter the room   
  
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Granger?" he said in an aggravated tone.   
  
She looked up at him with round, chocolate eyes that seemed lost, even to a person who didn't care one ounce about her. Oh great, there was that fucking compassion he had felt for the mudblood earlier! 'What is wrong with me?!' he thought to himself, trying desperately not to throw his hands up in absolute frustration over his conflicting thoughts about the mudblood.   
  
She was scum, she was lower than the dirt on his shoes! She ought to be where she had been just moments before: on the ground, at his feet! Though when her eyes looked the way they did at that particular moment - round, innocent and lost - no one, not even he, could tear himself away. Internally he was cursing himself - beseeching his limbs to move, to say something horrid, or just to walk away from her presence.   
  
But he couldn't. He was transfixed to the spot. She, looking at him with questioning eyes, and he, looking at her with a new sense of reverence.   
  
"What are you staring at, Malfoy?" she sighed, interrupting their moment of ambiguity.  
  
She had been intimidated by his penetrating stare. It felt as though he could read her thoughts and discover her secrets, even though there were few to tell. Still, the way he was looking at her chilled her to the bone, and she couldn't even tell what look it was he was giving her! Was it negative, specifically designed to derail her? Or could she see compassion fighting to make its way to the surface?  
  
The little hamster inside Draco's head was running double-time trying to come up with something - anything - to say to the witch in front of him, but no matter how hard the little creature ran, he remained mute. Malfoy's eyes scanned her being from top to bottom, clandestinely taking every detail in. 'What the fucking hell is wrong with me?!' his mind screamed as he and Granger continued their staring contest, neither willing to take their eyes off the other. 'Say something, you coward. Call her a mudblood, a filthy vermin, anything!'   
  
He continued his inward struggle as he watched Hermione finally lower her eyes, breaking their intense contact.  
  
Hermione, too scared of the intimidating look Malfoy had been giving her, kept her eyes down. His eyes held little emotion in them, she noticed. Hermione usually had the insight to tell what others were thinking or feeling, but Malfoy's emotions were deeply hidden, buried deep beneath layers of concrete walls that would take an immense amount of trust and loyalty to break their confines. Why she was even thinking of this, she did not know. She was confused - very confused. Nothing made sense anymore. The world was her enemy, just like the person standing in front of her.  
  
"Well mudblood, are you just going to stand there all night staring at something you sure as hell can't have, or what?"   
  
Draco's hamster finally gave him something credible to say and he mentally congratulated the little fella on his hard work.  
  
Hermione whipped her eyes back to focus hard on him.   
  
"Excuse me?" she spat.  
  
"What, hard of hearing mudblood? I believe I enunciated very well. And we all thought you were the smart one."   
  
He smirked, casually leaning back against one of the stone walls in the common room.   
  
He watched as her face contort into different expressions and nearly choked on his laughter as he watched each one cross her face. He loved knowing that he could read her like a book. Her feelings and emotions were always etched on her face and anyone with sense about them could easily tell when she was happy, angry, upset, or any other human emotion known to man. This made it exceptionally easy on him; it allowed him to add the correct fuel to her fire, and to back off when he knew she was on the verge of exploding.   
  
He watched her for a moment, as she tried to school her features and bottle up all her thoughts inside. He could tell she was in angry at him, but there was also something that ran more deeply. Pain. Pain for her two best friends.   
  
Draco almost snickered but then frowned at this gesture. He wanted to be mean to her, to take advantage of her vulnerability and moment of weakness, but he also wanted to help her.   
  
Even if it meant keeping his cynical and snide remarks to himself.   
  
Draco's eyebrow rose subconsciously whilst listening to the voices inside his head debate on the next course of action. It was like there were two different and distinct personalities battling internally. Hell, he felt like the muggle book Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. 'Granger would have a right laugh at you if she knew you'd read a muggle book!' he thought, shifting his weight and running a hand through his blond locks in frustration.   
  
Having split personalities was _not_ a good sign. Draco wanted to scream at the two voices nagging him.   
  
The nicer one was telling him to go to Hermione and comfort her. He was appalled! 'Since when was she _Hermione_?!'   
  
The other voice - the mean and nastier one - egged him to call her 'Mudblood', to tease her about her critically-injured friend in the hospital, and to constantly remind her of the other friend that could be rotting away in some hellhole!   
  
Draco closed his eyes and rubbed a forefinger against his temple in a meditative motion. He was thoroughly confused and beginning to get a headache!  
  
Hermione, who had finally walked into the room, stood but a few feet away from Draco, seeing in the mental battle that played itself out on the Slytherin's face. The boy was acting like a crazed lunatic. He was standing there, changing emotions quicker than Harry could catch the Snitch!   
  
"Malfoy? Are you alright?" she asked, genuinely concerned.  
  
She watched as Draco took a long, hard look at her.  
  
"Why wouldn't I be alright, Granger? I should be asking you that question. You looked as if a centaur ran you over."   
  
Hermione nearly laughed at the lame insult. Whatever was going on it that blonde head of his had obviously prevented him from coming up with a cunning affront. She continued to gaze at him a moment longer before sighing out loud and turning towards the fireplace.   
  
The head's fireplace was very similar to that of the one in the Gryffindor common room. There were only a few slight differences. This one was more elegant, with carvings made into the wood. She shuffled over to the glowing hearth and felt her body instantly warm up. Her mind drifted back to the day's problems. First to Harry and how he must be feeling, then it immediately switched to the events a few hours prior. She watched the scene in Knockturn Alley replay in the flames of the fire. Then she remembered Malfoy and how he was standing only a few feet away.   
  
Her mind swam with questions that perhaps the Slytherin could answer. Perhaps he could know the whereabouts of Ron, but had been forbidden to disclose that information. Maybe he had been lying! Or if he wasn't, he might have some general idea as to where Ron could be! Surely someone who grew up with the likes of a Death Eater would know something of how their military tactics worked. Would they keep Ron captive for security reasons? Or would they simply kill him, just to cause more pain to Harry? She hoped the latter wasn't the case. Harry couldn't take much more.   
  
Hermione whipped around to see Draco lazily sitting on the sofa, watching her. The incisive gaze sent goose-bumps up her arms. His intense glare nearly caused her to lose her backbone, but she couldn't - wouldn't - back down from the opportunity of learning about Ron.   
  
"Malfoy?" she questioned, sitting in a chair near the sofa facing the wizard. He looked up at her, giving her permission to continue. She cleared her throat, which suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara Desert. "Earlier, you said you knew nothing of Ron. Is that true?"   
  
She held her breath.  
  
He looked at her, a look of disgust etching his perfect face. "Are you calling me a liar, Granger?"  
  
She jumped to her feet. "No! No, I'm not… honestly. It's just, well… you see, there have been many times when you have stretched the truth and flat out lied, so what would make this time any different? I mean, you do hate Ron after all."   
  
She ran her hands through her unruly hair.  
  
"Look Granger, I didn't lie. I don't know anything about Weasley."   
  
He pulled his wand out of his pocket and whispered an incantation at the table, which resulted in a glass of Butterbeer being conjured for his pleasure.  
  
"I see."   
  
She paused, not knowing what to ask next. She watched him drink the warm liquid.   
  
"Malfoy, is there anyway that you could possibly know or do to obtain information on Ron's whereabouts?"   
  
She looked at him through russet eyes that he couldn't bring himself to look away from. They were pleading, begging for him to help.  
  
"Granger, I don't believe it! You of all people, are actually asking me for help!" He had been taken aback by her question. Never in all his years at Hogwarts had the bossy witch asked him for help. She had always done things on her own and would flaunt that fact to anyone who noticed - and he certainly _had_ noticed.   
  
"Look, Malfoy, this is serious," she started. "A person's life is at stake here! Could you get your stubborn, egotistical head out of your own arse and possibly help out?! I thought you said you didn't support the Dark Side!"  
  
"That wasn't exactly what I said," he mumbled, staring intently at his Butterbeer, before taking a swig.  
  
"So then you do? I knew it. Bloody hell, Malfoy, what _are_ you about? Have you already received the Mark on your arm then?"   
  
She sank into the chair she had occupied earlier. She had been defeated; he was never going to help her.   
  
She had not noticed Malfoy get up, but he was now striding towards her; his eyes blazing. Her eyes grew to large orbs as his hands gripped both arm rests and levelled his face with hers. She could see the anger burning in his grey eyes.   
  
"Listen, you fucking _mudblood_," he snarled, "let me get one thing straight. I do not support them and I never have. I am _not_ a fucking Death Eater, nor am I the lying son of a bitch that everyone makes me out to be."   
  
He pushed himself up, making the chair move back a few inches in the process. He gave her a disgusted look before unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve and then pushed the material up, over his forearm. There, staring back at Hermione, was pale, flawless skin. There was no Dark Mark there. She sighed in relief, but then registered the insults he'd just maliciously spat at her.  
  
"Then _why_ do you act the way you do? Why are you such a cold-hearted bastard?! If you don't support them, then you must support our side? Why don't you fight with us?" she interrogated, rising from the chair and facing him indignantly.   
  
"That's none of your business, Granger. What I do is no concern of yours."   
  
"You know what, Malfoy?" He looked up at her with dark, penetrating eyes. "You're just like _him_."  
  
"Who am I just like?" he snarled. She wouldn't. She wouldn't have the audacity to make such a comparison.  
  
"Your _father_!" she spat with the most venom she could muster.   
  
Draco tried to retort back, but she interrupted him before he could even form the first word.   
  
"You are just like him, Draco Malfoy. You may not be the heartless Death Eater that he is, but deep down you are no better than he. While he has tortured and killed innocent people, you sit back in your luxurious mansion never saying a word! How can you be so callous? You keeping silent for so many years has caused the death of muggles _and_ wizards!"   
  
Draco stared at her for a long, hard minute. His mind reeled with the false accusations she had just made. He knew the allegations were fabricated, but the fact that someone even thought them had hurt. She had the audacity to accuse him of being like his father, and furthermore accused him of aiding and abetting his father in all the murders the elder Malfoy had committed.   
  
Draco's anger continued to reach such a point that he was nearly ready explode. His morals held him back from doing the one thing he felt like doing at that present moment.   
  
Since he'd come to Hogwarts, he had learned and built up a few strong morals that he would only break if the situation were severe enough for him to actually question them. This one was bordering on it. He wanted to strike the witch in front of him, and he truthfully thought she would deserve such a blow. But his strong principles fought with him, saying that such actions would only send him back to being the cold-hearted bastard she had accused him of being. The evil being inside his head wouldn't let him cease these thoughts. It was egging him on, saying that it would be okay and that the mudblood bitch actually deserved it.   
  
At a last minute decision, Draco abandoned all his morals and raised his arm just as there was an insistent knocking on the common room door. His thoughts froze and he quickly lowered his arm, plastering a scowl upon his face.  
  
Hermione, who had been watching Draco's reaction at her accusations saw the inner conflict he was experiencing. Then, to her astonishment, he had risen his arm as if he were going to strike her! This realization scared her. She thought that he wouldn't dare hit a girl. Surely he had more sense than that. Then, as if by some small miracle, a knock had sounded at their common room door. Hermione, who had been standing with her back to the wooden frame, turned from her predator to look at the door apprehensively. She looked back at Draco, eyes wide, before turning and hurrying to the door. She was afraid that he would find his wand as her back was turn and hex her into oblivion. 'Just stay calm. Don't panic. Nearly there.' She tried to appease herself and braced herself for such a spell, but none came.   
  
Eventually her hand closed over the knob. She pulled the heavy door open only to be greeted with the welcoming sight of the Headmaster. Hermione felt like leaping into the old man's arms and thanking him dearly for saving her from the likes of Malfoy.  
  
It was funny. Hours before, it had been Malfoy to save her from such a horrid fate and now she needed rescuing from her rescuer! She sighed out loud at how her day seemed to get worse and worse. What _else_ could go wrong?   
  
She looked up at the elder wizard and saw that he wore a grim expression. Hermione was puzzled. Never, not even when battles arose and were lost did she see such a defeated look on the Headmaster's features.   
  
"Professor? Is there something wrong?" she asked respectfully.  
  
"Miss Granger, I must speak with you."   
  
He turned towards Draco.   
  
"Mr Malfoy, would you be so kind as to allow Miss Granger and I a moment of privacy?"  
  
"Yes sir."   
  
To Hermione's surprise, Draco's anger had been contained at the sight of the old wizard.  
  
Both Hermione and Professor Dumbledore watched Draco retreat towards the stairs that led to his chambers. Upon hearing his door close, Hermione turned back towards the kind, old wizard and gestured for him to sit down. He did, and Hermione followed suit.   
  
"Miss Granger, I know that your day has thus far been hectic and terrifying."   
  
Hermione gave him an odd look. Did he know about Knockturn Alley?  
  
"I sincerely hate to make it anymore miserable for you, but I am afraid I must shed some light on a very grave situation."   
  
Dumbledore paused. Hermione sat there. Impatience was never her forte, and for a good reason.   
  
"What is it, Professor?" she asked.   
  
"Well as you know, when Harry was fighting at the battle a few days ago, he was injured by a Death Eater."   
  
Hermione nodded her confirmation   
  
"You did well, Hermione, in healing a lot of his wounds, but when we took him to St. Mungos his condition was far worse than we had originally speculated."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened.   
  
"There was one wound, Miss Granger, that would not heal. Do you remember?"   
  
Hermione nodded her head in recollection whilst thousands of questions ran through her head.   
  
"Well, that wound was an advanced curse, used only by those on the Dark side. It's name is new to us, as it seems it was invented by Voldemort himself just a few years ago. It's called the _Placidus Casus_."  
  
Hermione mentally scanned for the meaning of such words; she was sure she'd heard that Latin phrase somewhere before…  
  
Silent Death.   
  
Her head snapped up at the Headmaster; face drained of all colour and lips trembling. "Professor, Harry's not… he's not going to…"  
  
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted. "Harry's situation is critical. The doctors cannot heal him as we do not know the counter curse."   
  
Hermione lowered her head at the revelation, and tears started to will up in her brown eyes.  
  
"Do not cry, Hermione." He conjured a tissue and handed it to her. "There is a way that the curse could be lifted." he said, and Hermione looked at him with hope-filled eyes. "It is said that the magic of one who has a history in the Dark Arts can heal a curse such as this."  
  
Hermione wracked her brain for any such person. There were only two people she could think of.  
  
"Headmaster? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but what about Professor Snape, or even Lupin?"  
  
"Ah, I figured you would ask such a question Miss Granger. Lupin was merely a teacher of the defence against the Dark Arts. He only taught students to repel and defend themselves against Dark spells; he does not know how to cast them."  
  
"And Professor Snape? What about him? Wasn't he, at a time, a Death Eater?"   
  
She didn't know if she had stepped out of line with her impudence towards the respected Potions Master. She hoped Dumbledore would not be angry with her.  
  
"It is true that Professor Snape was a Death Eater at one time. He was once capable of such powerful Dark magic that I don't believe anyone could even begin to comprehend the things he could have done with that power."  
  
"Then he can help! He'll be able to perform the counter curse! Right, Professor?"   
  
A small flicker of hope crossed Hermione's face. Maybe the situation wasn't as grave as the old Headmaster made it out to be. Maybe Harry could be cured and then, together, they could find Ron! She suddenly noticed the look on Professor Dumbledore's face and her heart sank. She saw no glimmer of hope on the aged features. He was worried.  
  
"Miss Granger, I am afraid Professor Snape will be of little help. You see, as part of his agreement with the Ministry, he promised to no longer practice dark magic. Furthermore, he has no desire whatsoever of indulging in Dark magic, and refuses to even get slightly involved."   
  
He paused, carefully observing the young witch seated a few feet away from him.   
  
"So you see, Miss Granger, Professor Snape will be unable to help. I am terribly sorry."  
  
Hermione allowed all the dreadful information to sink into her head. There was no counter curse, there was no one who could perform the spell needed to heal Harry. So what now? She looked up at the Professor who was making his way towards the door.   
  
"Professor?" she called, standing and advancing towards him. Dumbledore turned to look at the young witch. "What must we do now?"   
  
"I believe that all we do now is wait and hope that there is someone under our noses whom we have missed." He looked behind her, his eyes flickering towards the stairs that led to the student's bed chambers with an odd look on his face.   
  
"Good night Miss Granger."   
  
His eyes twinkled for some odd reason that Hermione couldn't fathom.  
  
Hermione was astounded. One minute the old man was depressed and then there was an unknown spark about him! She was absolutely confused. And what did he mean _little_ problem?! This was by far the biggest problem Hermione had fought thus far! She was utterly confused.

* * *

Meanwhile, unbeknown to Hermione, Draco Malfoy sat in his room listening to the conversation in the common room below. He knew it was rude, but he didn't care. One look at the old man's face told Draco that the details would be juicy.   
  
He listened intently as he heard Hermione say, "Professor, Harry's not… he's not going to…"   
  
Draco's eyes widened in astonishment upon hearing these words. 'Surely he's... It's not possible… Potter can't be...'   
  
Draco stood up and moved closer to his door and listened as Dumbledore explained the severity of the situation to Granger. He then laughed when she tried to think of people who could help. 'Of course she would think of Snape!'   
  
Draco smirked, but then frowned as he heard Dumbledore squash her hopes by revealing that the two she had mentioned could be of little, if any, help.   
  
"Professor?" He heard Hermio – Granger – ask. "What must we do now?"   
  
He could tell just by the sound of her voice that she was keeping a mass of tears down, and without realizing, his forehead wrinkled in concern.  
  
"I believe that all we do now is wait and hope that there is someone under our noses whom we have missed." he heard the old wizard say, and then the door closed.  
  
Draco stepped away from the door.   
  
"Okay, the old loon has definitely fallen off his rocker now!" he mumbled as he strode over to the window. Outside, more snow had begun to fall. He thought it was beautiful, the way the white flakes lazily floated through the dark sky.  
  
His thoughts drifted towards the witch in the common room. Perhaps he should go check on her. 'Make sure she doesn't do anything drastic,' he reasoned with himself, astounded at his concern; he wanted to see her… to see the tears in her eyes again – not for humility reasons, but so he could comfort her.   
  
'What the _fuck_?!' Draco's mind screamed and he pushed himself away from the windows sill, aggravated. Nope, seeing Hermione would not be a good idea. His usual self would suffer some damage at seeing the girl cry.   
  
Malfoy closed his eyes and tried to remind himself that she was a mudblood and that he shouldn't care. He stripped of his pants, shirt and shoes and climbed into the warm confines of his bed before slowly drifting into a fitful slumber. 

* * *

Well, I hope you all liked this long chapter! I certainly had fun writing it. Thanks to my beta reader and all those that reviewed!


	5. Chapter 5

Darkness Before the Sun Rises

Chapter 5

The next week crept by slower than that of a snail crossing the road. Classes had ended and those who were anxious to go home for Christmas holidays prepared to leave. It was but a few more days before Christmas. Everyone in the Hogwarts School had been affected, somehow and in some way, from the battle nearly two weeks before. No matter what their age, year, or how rich or poor they were, everyone felt the pain of losing someone close to them - whether it be a friend or a family member.

Despite the pain and desolation within their hearts, the students managed to have a merry time the day before they left for the holidays. There was a feast in the Great Hall, filled with all sorts of wonderful foods. The students exchanged their gifts with one another and made promises not to open them until Christmas day.

Draco and Hermione were responsible for seeing that the students going home for Christmas made it onto the Hogwarts Express safely. With a great amount of animosity between them, the two had managed to fulfil their job as requested by Dumbledore, only speaking to one another when it was absolutely necessary. It was tense, to say the least. So uptight, that the tension could be cut with a knife. Fortunately, they were able to mask their acrimony; Hermione put up a Happy façade, and Draco hid behind his usual smirk. The departing students never knew of the fight between the two Heads.

Once the train departed, both Hermione and Draco went their separate ways. Neither of them had anyone in the castle to spend the holidays with, which gradually caused a great amount of loneliness and depression to set in. They caught a glimpse of one another at meal times and occasionally in the common room. All the while, they never once said a word about the night they had fought.

Draco's mind, following the days after their squabble, contained nothing but that evening and the events that had taken place. His actions were justified, but yet he felt ashamed for nearly hitting the girl. She was right to think that he was like his father. The two had the same temper when dealing with heated discussions. The morals that he had placed on a pedestal had come crashing down at the slightest insult directed at him. He almost hated himself for all the things he had said to her. The names he had called her and the moment he had nearly hit her. Why did he even care? He wasn't supposed to, but yet he did. He actually wanted her to know that he was not like his father. He wanted her to see that he had a heart, maybe not a sensitive and loving heart, but a heart nonetheless. He cared and that's all that mattered.

Hermione, on the other hand, tried to erase all thoughts of her and Draco's last argument. Agonizing over those details had distracted her from more important things happening around her - Harry and Ron for instance. She was always in the library searching the hundreds of books for any information on the Placidus Casus curse. If she weren't there, she would be with Dumbledore. She designated one hour a day to the Headmaster, quizzing him for any information on either Ron or Harry.

The only time Hermione saw Draco Malfoy was when they were both eating in the Great Hall or in their common room. To her relief, Malfoy didn't even address or so much as look at her on the few occasions they had come across each other. It was a good feeling, yet it was odd. She almost missed the disputes they shared; for he was the only one in the school who could battle on the same intellectual level as she.

Even though Hermione never thought of the blond-haired Slytherin during the day, she would think of him constantly at night, right before she went to sleep. The way he had shown a small flicker of concern for her in Knockturn Alley, how he had let his guard down and had shown his true anger to her. It was unnerving to say the least. For the six years in which she had known Draco Malfoy, he had never let his emotions get out of hand; for he always kept them closely guarded. But for the first time, he had shown his true self. It was the side of him that was passionate and displayed the truth that he actually cared what others perceived of him.

Hermione regretted comparing Malfoy to his father, but she felt that her assessment was somewhat correct. He _had_ always been like his father, and for all she knew, he always would. Though, there was also the fact that he had not joined the realm of the Death Eaters. That in itself was a miracle. Everyone had always thought that he would be the first in their year to receive the Dark Mark, yet he hadn't.

Sighing out loud, Hermione sat up in her bed, thoroughly exhausted, yet unable to sleep. She looked out the bay window at the cold night sky. The stars hung in the black abyss, twinkling and shining ever so brightly. She sat in her bed, legs crossed and gazed at the constellations. Cassiopeia and Orion were visible, as were Ursa Minor and Major. She sighed again, laying back on the pillow and stretching her legs out. It was far too difficult to fall asleep. So many thoughts and problems were constantly on her mind that she felt as if she had a headache all the time.

She turned onto her side, gathering the warm blankets up to her chin, begging for sleep to take her away. After another agonizing span of thoughts on the Slytherin, she drifted to a fitful sleep. One filled with dreams of gore and heartache.

Screams filled the witches dreams. Screams that were familiar yet foreign in many aspects. She knew who they belonged to, but the agony they displayed cut through her sensitive heart.

It was Ron.

She could hear him, begging for help, begging for a small shard of life to hold onto. Hermione could then see him, chained to a wall, blood and bruises decorating his once flawless skin. She cringed and cried out at seeing his body and the pain he was in.

She tried to reach for him, but someone blocked her path.

A hooded man stepped in front of her, preventing her from getting any closer but she could hear the sounds of a whip lashing against Ron's skin and the screams that followed. Then there was silence, nothing was audible, save that of her sharp breaths.

The hooded figure disappeared, revealing Ron's lifeless body on the floor. She ran to him, crying out, screaming. The tears were falling from her eyes. He didn't hear her. She felt as though she had been running for hours yet she couldn't get to him. It was as if he kept disappearing farther and farther away...

It was a nightmare, but yet it was happening, she was sure of it. He was there, as clear as day.

She could smell the suffocating stench of the dungeon.

She could hear the cries of others.

She called out for help.

She called numerous times, sobbing for her friend.

* * *

Draco sat in the Common Room, immersed in the book, _The Great Gatsby_; another great muggle book that he was sure would shock everyone in school if they knew he were reading it. It was one of his favourites out of the small stack he had. The story of the Roaring Twenties was exciting. Elegant parties, romances, death, and deception. What more could a person ask for in a book?

He had just turned a page when a blood-curdling scream reached his ears. He nearly jumped an entire foot at the sound. Honestly, what was it with people trying to scare the wits out of him recently? He looked towards the Head Girl's bed chambers, where the scream had transpired. A mix expression of puzzlement and concern crossed his features as his hands gripped the book. He didn't know if he should go and see if everything was all right or if he should continue to sit and ignore her.

After much deliberation, he decided on the latter, arguing that she had been the one to insult and belittle him. So, therefore, he had no reason to try and help her. He couldn't care less if someone was in there trying to kill her. 'She deserves it', his mind concluded. With that, he resumed his reading.

"Somebody help! Please!" Her cries carried to that of the common room and Draco, who had only resumed his reading for a few moments, jumped to his feet and raced to her room.

Arriving at her floor, he grabbed hold of the doorknob. It wouldn't turn! He thought of turning right back around and heading for his own room when another blood curdling scream rang out from somewhere on the other side of the door. This jolted him into action. Without thinking twice, he bypassed the polite knocking and opened the door with the Alohamora charm. He stepped inside; eyes taking in the chamber and it's decorum. 'Not too shabby,' he thought, momentarily forgetting his mission. He looked around the spacious room for any sign of trouble, but found none.

His eyes settled on the bed in front of him and his expression softened. There was no villain, but that of an apparent bad dream. He silently approached her bed, noticing the sharp intakes of breath and the way she gripped the sheets. Draco stood over the witch, watching her carefully.

"Please, somebody help." Draco heard her plea. "No, no. Please don't be dead. No!" she cried, actual tears coming out pouring her eyes.

Draco was taken aback. He gripped her shoulders and tried to shake her awake.

"Granger!" he shouted, worry coursing through him. "Granger, for Dumbledore's sake, wake up!" He shook her one final time before releasing his hold on her.

Draco watched as her eyes flew open and her body lurch into a sitting position. She grasped her chest, calming her breathing.

Hermione had yet to notice the presence of Draco Malfoy. It had been so real. The dream. Ron was there, right in front of her eyes, but yet she couldn't reach out to him in time. He had died because she had been too late.

'It was a dream, just a dream. Relax Hermione.' She reasoned.

She shook her head, trying to clear the gory details. The action alerted her to the presence of someone else in her room. She squinted her eyes and could make out the blond hair - trademark of the Malfoys.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked, bringing the sheets higher up her chest.

Draco didn't respond for sometime, having been entranced by her vulnerability. He shook his head, trying to regain control over his thoughts. He had indeed been worried about the mudblood. This realisation disturbed him. 'No, no, Draco, you don't care about her! Not in the slightest. Be cruel. Be insensitive. Show her just how much of a bastard you can be.' His thoughts fought with the nagging sensation at the pit of his stomach. He turned his head to the side, and placed the infamous smirk on his face. "I thought you were being tortured, I came to watch the show," he retorted.

Hermione threw him an appalled look. How dare he! "Get out, Draco Malfoy!" she shouted.

"What's the matter? Did the brave Gryffindor get scared by a dream?" He smirked, returning to his old self.

"No! I did not! Now get out." She pointed to the door across the room.

His gaze travelled along her outstretched arm, but he ignored it. "I thought I already told you that you were a horrible liar," he recalled. "Honestly, Granger, if you're going to lie, at least learn to do it properly."

"How dare you! Get out of my room before I curse you into oblivion!" With that, she reached for her wand on the bedside table and pointed it at him.

He stared at her, mildly surprised, but not showing it. He advanced a few steps forward, daring her to do it. With each step, her eyes became wider and her hand shook. With barely a foot between them, he looked her straight in the eyes, seeing a mixture of defiance and unease.

"Malfoy," she whispered. "Please, just leave."

The smirk on his face slowly disappeared as he looked at the girl in the bed. Her vulnerability and innocence were overwhelming. He studied her, the moon casting its rays upon her. He thought her pretty, which was an odd thought for him, but he could not deny it. Her pouty lips, the hair that was everywhere during the day somehow calmed itself at night, and those captivating eyes. He averted his gaze and with a small nod left the room. As he shut the door, he could hear her utter another locking spell. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, his thoughts in a jumble.

His actions once again confused him, and he knew he would get very little sleep that night. Just like the day when he had saved her, he had tossed and turned the entire night, barely getting a few hours of sleep before the wretched sun rose over the hills, announcing the start of a new day.

He ran a hand through his hair before pushing himself off the wall and walking back down to the common room. He smiled as he saw his book lying uncannily on the floor. He retrieved it before sagging into the comfortable couch, resuming where he had left off.

* * *

Christmas Eve arrived two days after Hermione and Draco's midnight escapade. Those that remained in the castle were anxiously waiting for the next day. Everyone was filled with merriment. Even Hermione had a spark of the Christmas spirit. It wasn't as strong as in years past, but it was still there, kindled in her heart. She knew that the Christmas season meant a time of rejoicing and hope that all things will eventually be all right. In her heart, she believed that such things were possible.

She sat with a blanket on the seat by the bay window in the Head's common room. A book lay in her hand, but she had yet to begin reading it. She looked out over the snowy terrain of the Hogwarts grounds. It was picturesque. She could see a couple, who had obviously decided to stay for the Christmas holiday to spend time with one another, down below having a snowball fight. It was obvious the boy was going easy on the girl. Their kindred feelings for one another were obvious, even four stories above the ground.

A smile played on her face as she watched the two below. It was her first real smile in weeks, and it felt good.

She turned her attention away from the window at the sound of pages turning. Her attention turned to a certain Slytherin who sat reading on the couch. Unable to make out the title of the book, she allowed herself to scrutinize the individual whilst he wasn't looking. She had never taken the time to study his appearance, or anything about him for that matter. All she had ever noticed was his insistent banter about her being a muggle-born and his prejudice against her for that fact. Everything else she had learned through Ron and Harry. She watched as his eyes danced over the pages of his book. The way his forehead would wrinkle then relax as if given the answer to a very important question. She watched as his index finger tapped rhythmically against the hard cover.

A persistent tapping on the window pane made Draco look up. Their eyes met for a brief moment. She was able to take in those magnanimous grey orbs. She watched as he quirked an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you going to get that?" he asked.

She looked at him incredulously.

"The owl, Granger. Get it before I turn it into a feather duster."

She turned back to the window to notice a beautiful white owl. "Hedwig!" She cried, once again disturbing Draco. She jumped out of her seat and opened the window. The animal flew around the room before landing on her desk and she briskly walked over, ignoring the quizzical look Malfoy was giving her. She grabbed a treat from a bowl on one of her bookshelves and fed one to the creature as she untied a letter from his leg.

Draco watched her from where he lay stretched out on the couch. She opened the letter and her eyes lit up as each word filtered through her head. A beaming smile shone on her face and she let out a small squeal before tossing the bird another treat and rushing out the common room.

Draco continued to stare at the spot where she had just stood, a curious expression on his face. He placed his book on the side table and stood up. The bird was looking at him as he moved to her desk.

She had dropped the letter.

He stared at it for a moment before glancing towards the common room door, then back to the bird, then back to the door again. He bent over and retrieved the parchment. Opening it up, he read:

_Hermione,_

_I'm really sorry for my wretched behaviour two weeks ago. I've had a lot of time to think since then. I really, really want to see you. Would you come and visit me in the hospital? I miss you. I truly do. Christmas this year won't be the same without you. If you don't come, I understand. I would hate me too if I were in your position. In fact, I hate myself for the way I treated you that day. I really am sorry. _

_Happy Christmas,_

_Love,_

_Harry_

* * *

_I just want you all to know that I appreciate every single review that I get. They truly motivate me to write! They really do. So this chapter was for all those that have reviewed. Thank you so much. :D_


	6. Chapter 6

Darkness Before the Sun Rises  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Dark, overbearing clouds hung over the small town as another snowstorm threatened to spill its snowflakes on the already white ground. Despite the chill and the ominous storm, Hermione could not prevent the smile that had spread on her face. Chapped lips, cold ears and disarrayed hair were far from her mind. All she could think about was Harry. He had sent her a letter.  
  
A letter!  
  
She was ecstatic at the idea of seeing him after what felt like forever, but technically it had only been about a month. The emptiness that had eaten away at her heart from not seeing her friend had made every minute seem like an eternity. She couldn't wait to see his smiling face, She couldn't wait to see his smiling face, his eyes that always seemed to calm her when nervous and comfort her when sad, and the untidy flop of raven hair.  
  
Now she had hope again. Hope that everything would be okay in the end. That Harry would finally heal and come back to Hogwarts. That they would somehow find Ron, even if it meant bypassing all the laws that prevented them from searching for their friend.  
  
Everything would be as it should. Nothing would get in the way of that; she was sure of it.  
  
Upon entering St. Mungo's, Hermione followed the vaguely familiar path that led to Harry Potter's private room. She rounded the candle lit corners and walked vivaciously down winding hallways before coming to the wooden door with the numbers 167 clad in iron labels  
  
She raised her arm hesitantly to knock on the door, apprehensive that someone would spy her and cast her from the ward before she had the chance to see Harry. Her gentle raps echoed down the vacant hallway and she sighed in relief as the door opened to let her in.  
  
As Hermione walked through to Harry's room, she passed a medi-witch, half-hidden by the large stacks of parchment surrounding her desk. The witch at the desk looked at her and then nodded, allowing Hermione to continue to the door on the other side of the room.  
  
Harry's door.  
  
She smiled and looked back at the witch, whose brows were furrowed, emphasising her wrinkles in the dimly lit room  
  
Hermione returned her attention back to the door in front of her. Slowly turning the brass doorknob, she pushed the mahogany door open and tentatively stepped inside the room.  
  
The room smelled of cinnamon sticks and oranges. Two distinctly opposite smells oddly forming together in a rather welcoming aroma. She inhaled the scent and ravished as it filled her lungs and warmed her with it's comforting fragrance.  
  
Hermione's eyes finally settled on the lone bed that occupied the room. She could make out the few strands of familiar dark hair poking out over the top of the sheets. A gentle smile was present on her face as she approached the bed and gazed at the wizard occupying it. Hermione noted with an amused smile that his glasses were resting atop his nose. He must have forgotten to take them off. How Hermione yearned to see the familiar emerald eyes that were bound closed.  
  
She placed her hand upon his, the gentle pressure exuding the hidden emotions within. She ran her thumb, methodically across the top of his hand. How she had missed his touch.  
  
Green eyes fluttered open at the gentle caresses of his hand. Brown and green connected in a moment of ambiguity and both seemed lost in the continuity of their held gazes. Both in complete shock and jubilation at seeing something they had missed so dearly  
  
It wasn't until Hermione had stopped her administrations and wrapped her arms around Harry that he had been able to speak the name of the one person he had wanted to see for weeks. "Hermione!" he cried, wrapping his arms tightly around her.  
  
"Harry." Her cry was accompanied by actual tears that seeped through the bandages on his shoulder. He hissed with pain as the saltiness came in contact with part of his wound hidden beneath the dressings, causing Hermione to abruptly pull herself away. "Oh, I'm sorry," she sobbed, a few more tears trickling down her rosy cheeks.  
  
"Hermione," Harry whispered, staring at the girl on his bed. He had missed her delicate smile, the jumble of hair that had a mind of it's own, and most of all her russet eyes. He stared into them; all time standing still as the two held the other's gaze not wanting to break the contact. Harry smiled and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "How are you doing?"  
  
She gave his hand a squeeze and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "Better now that I'm here."  
  
Harry gave a small chuckle. "That's good."  
  
A comfortable silence fell as the two relished in the other's company.  
  
For the first time since she'd gotten there Hermione looked around the room Harry had occupied since the last battle. It's white walls adorned with moving pictures of famous medi-witches and wizards. She observed as a young nurse gave a boy a teaspoon of some sort of medicinal syrup. The boy made a face before settling down in his bed. The nurse gently caressed the boys' hair, soothing the child into a calming sleep.  
  
Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, who was quietly watching the same picture she had been watching herself . She took the time to take in his appearance. At first glance, he looked lively and awake, but she noticed now how pale his skin looked, and how much thinner he was, compared to the last time she'd seen him. His eyes were shadowed by the dark lines underneath them from lack of sleep... she suddenly realised how _ill_ he looked...  
  
"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked after awhile.  
  
He gave a sigh but smiled nonetheless. "I'm fine. Just peachy."  
  
Hermione sent him a stern look. "Are you really?"  
  
Harry looked down for a brief second before looking back into her eyes, "Yes, I believe that I am."  
  
Hermione enveloped him into another hug as relief washed over her. "I'm so glad," she breathed.  
  
He was going to be okay!

* * *

"And they say that there is no cure, Albus?" The stern voice of Professor McGonagall was anything but stern. It sounded as if tears were being held at bay; making her sound as if she were croaking the words out to the respected Headmaster.  
  
"Well there is one, but there is little hope of it being performed," spoke the aged man.  
  
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked, her brow creasing in confusion.  
  
"The magic of someone who has tampered with the Dark Arts can perform the counter curse," he stated simply, not bothering to add anything else.  
  
After a moment of processing this vague information, McGonagall proceeded with her interrogation. "What about Remus Lupin or even Severus? Wouldn't they be probable candidates to perform the counter curse?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore gave a smiled knowingly. The woman reminded him of another Gryffindor who had asked him the same question. "Minerva, you know that Remus is unable to perform such a spell since he has never dabbled into the Dark Arts and you know of Snape's agreement and refusal to get mixed up in things regarding the Dark Arts. I have already asked him and he politely refused. Plus, his contract with the Ministry would not allow it."  
  
"Surely there must be something we can do, Albus! We can't just let Potter sit in St. Mungo's and die!" she shrilled, her voice echoing down the narrow corridor.  
  
"I'm afraid that all we can do is hope for some sort of miracle to happen. Until then, would you care for a lemon drop?" The Headmaster offered a bag of the sweets to his colleague who politely refused it before turning and leaving.  
  
Professor McGonagall looked after the elderly man, a gloomy expression pulling at her old lines. She sighed out loud and turned to leave in the opposite direction, prepared to do some research on Placidus Casus before heading to bed.  
  
Her steps echoed down the ancient halls, never once noticing the prying eyes of a certain Slytherin hidden behind a nearby column.  
  
The Head Boy crept out from behind the stone and checked both directions the two professors had left with a look of disbelief written on his face. He had heard the Headmaster telling Granger that Potter was going to die, but he hadn't believe it at the time.  
  
Potter was the only hope for salvation and deliverance from Voldemort. Without him, there would be nothing left of the Wizarding world but death and destruction. Without Potter all Muggle-borns would be killed.  
  
Draco shrugged; he didn't have a problem with that.  
  
'But what about Granger?' his mind argued.  
  
What about her? She was nothing but dirt to him. She wasn't worth all the time he had spent thinking about her ever since he had found her crying in their corridor. He hated the fact that he couldn't get the way her eyes looked when she cried out of his mind, or forget how fascinating she would look when her fists were clenched at her sides whenever she was agitated.  
  
"This is ridiculous!" he argued. She could die at the hands of Voldemort and his minons and he wouldn't even give her a second glance. He didn't give a fig about her!  
  
"Stupid mudblood," he muttered, gathering his wits about him and dismissing the witch from his mind. He didn't care one bit about her; not at all.  
  
Draco stifled a yawn, suddenly realising how late it was. He peered down the corridor, checking left and right for any sign of a teacher or Mrs. Norris  
  
The coast was clear.  
  
He marched with determined step through the hallways to his common room; the same one he had to share with Granger.  
  
The long journey through the castle gave him ample time to process the information he had previously heard.  
  
He hadn't believed the news when the Headmaster told Granger. It wasn't possible. Potter had escaped worse fates than this _silly_ curse - he had survived the killing curse when he was a baby! Something so small wouldn't get in the way of the boy who lived.  
  
Potter was going to die, and the entire wizarding world would go down with him. There There would be no light if Voldemort ascended to the throne. There will be misery and death. Everything would change. Everything he had secretly supported would be killed and demolished.  
  
"There has to be another way," he reasoned, replaying Dumbledore's news in his head.  
  
"Placidus Casus," he repeated. "Silent Death."  
  
He paused, his steps stopping. His mind reeling with the translation.  
  
"Silent Death... but how? By what means?"  
  
His eyes roamed the corridor he was in as if the answer would somehow spell itself out on the stonewalls.  
  
He had read something about that curse before, but where?!

* * *

I would like to thank my beta reader for staying up until six in the morning helping me get this ready before I left for college! I promised a lot of you that it would be up, so here it is! Be sure to thank her when you drop reviews in my thread in the Library forum! 


	7. Chapter 7

Darkness Before the Sun Rises

Chapter 7

"_Draco!"_

_Cold wind swept over him as the voice of Narcissa Malfoy pulled the warm covers away from his body. Tiny goose pimples broke out across his skin as he reached for the sheets in an attempt to rid himself of the cold that seemed to clamor to him. "Oh, come now, Draco. Wake up. It's Christmas morning."_

_Draco squinted one eye open and looked at his mother. He groaned and buried his head deeper into the pillow, blocking out the harsh sunlight that spilled into his room._

"_Draco Malfoy." His fathers' voice came from across the room and Draco jumped at the sound. "Get up out of that bed right now, son. Your mother is anxious to begin the celebrations. Now come on, your presents are downstairs waiting for you to open."_

_Draco eventually sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He let out a loud yawn and his mother ruffled his bed hair with a chuckle. His feet touched the cold marble floor and he shivered at the contact until a house elf brought him his slippers and housecoat. _

_Narcissa wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders and walked with him through the manor to the sitting room below. There the adults had coffee, and Draco had tea while the house elves sorting the presents and handing each master their gifts. Each Malfoy took turns in opening one present while the other two looked on. It was a slow process, seeing how each member had a large amount of presents. They basked in the loveliness of each gift, showing gratitude to the one that gave it to them. It was a merry occasion for the three of them._

"_Come here, son," his father beckoned. Draco complied. "Thank you for the wand case, Draco. It's just what I needed." His father hugged him and Draco returned the embrace wholeheartedly. _

"_Draco?" His mother called for his attention and Draco turned in his father's embrace to look at his beautiful mother. _

"_Yes, Mum?" He smiled at her._

"_Thank you for the bracelet." She held her arms out and Draco moved from his father's embrace to that of his mother's. "The sapphires will look lovely with the new dress your father gave me." She kissed the top of his head. _

"_You're welcome, Mum." He kissed her cheek before pulling away and looking from his parents to the stack of unwrapped presents the house elves were now clearing to take to their rooms. _

Draco Malfoy sighed out loud and ran a shaking hand through his blonde locks. The noise carried across the room and caused the attention of one witch to be focused on him.

"Malfoy?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

Draco rubbed his hands across his face and shifted before turning around, his mask back in place. She wouldn't be able to tell that he'd been thinking of the best Christmas he had ever had, or rather the best memory of his parents he had.

"What does it matter to you, Granger?" he scoffed, sitting down in one of the chairs.

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the present in her hands.

Draco sat there, watching her every move. He watched as she meticulously ran her hand over the framed picture beneath her fingers. He couldn't see it, but he'd bet all the galleons he had that it was of he and her stupid friends. He suppressed the agitated groan that was begging to be released. It was annoying watching how much she adored them.

He admitted it. He hated their close friendship and the bond that they shared. He should have had that bond the day he offered his friendship to Harry Potter, but that offer was turned down for the friendship of a_Weasley_! It was utterly ridiculous and a hurtful blow to him, but he'd never admit it openly to anyone.

He watched as Hermione continued to stare at the picture and subconsciously run her finger back and forth over the faces of her friends. As he heard her sniffle, he immediately rose from the chair as he had an uncontrollable urge to reach out to her and tell her that they were fine. He went back to standing in front of the window, his back to her as he stared out at the cold grounds below.

He had a picture stored in an old box in his dormitory. It was the last happy memory he had of his family. It was the same Christmas memory he had been daydreaming about before_she _interrupted his thoughts. It was but a few days before his father was called away to serve Voldemort and become one of his cronies. Lucius Malfoy had always served Lord Voldemort, but it wasn't until then that his father sold himself and his services to him.

Draco had lost all aspects of his father to that villain. His mother and father fought each other for months after that, pleading with him to change his ways, to come back to her; but her cries and pleas fell on deaf ears. His father, tiring of her begging and sobbing, placed the imperius curse on her and she no longer acted the way she used to. Instead of the loving and doting mother he had once had, Draco was now left with a mother who would sit for hours in her room staring out at the scenery beyond her bedroom window.

At a young age, Draco lost the father he had known because of Lord Voldemort, and Draco had hated the dark bastard ever since with more malice than any normal person could have.

As Draco stood there watching the snow fall, he could feel his eyes burn with unshed tears that wanted to escape and make their presence known for the first time in four years. He rubbed his eyes roughly against his palms, inhaling a deep breath as he took control of his emotions.

"Malfoy?"

Her voice sounded so quiet and welcoming he had to close his eyes and take a few slow breaths to control his escalating heartbeat.

"Are you okay?"

He could hear the concern in her voice. It was blatantly obvious, but he didn't want it. He didn't need for her to be worried about him.

He turned around and looked at her with what he hoped to be a mask of disgust for her presence. He hoped that she couldn't see what was going on inside his head, and even if she could, she didn't seem to notice it as she handed him three packages.

"Two of those came this morning by owl," she said, averting her eyes to look at anything but him.

He arched an eyebrow. "And the third?"

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before glancing up at him and then to the floor, "The third is from me."

A bubble of laughter emitted from him before he was able to stop it and when the sound died down, he looked at her and saw the sadness written in her eyes and he groaned aloud.

"All right, Granger. I'm sorry," he mumbled and sat the other two gifts down before tearing apart the silver wrapping of her present. He got to the box and lifted the lid and looked up at her then back to the object within the box.

"I thought you could use it. One can never have too many quills."

He took the quill out, throwing the box haphazardly onto the sofa next to the other gifts, and examined the fine piece of wood. The intricate patterns carved into the wood were some of the best he had seen in years. The form of a serpent coiled around the stick and the feather at the head of the quill was that of a Phoenix. He had never seen a quill with such mastery since his father had given him one for his first year at Hogwarts.

"If you don't like it, I can take it back," she said, fiddling with her fingers in a nervous gesture that he knew all too well.

He ran his finger across the carvings and examined it closer. "No, I think I'll keep it," he announced and noticed a look of surprise cross her face. "I rather like it."

She smiled. His stomach jumped and he quickly averted his eyes, inwardly scolding himself for thinking those thoughts again. As he turned away from her, he spotted the other two gifts that he had tossed aside before, and picked them up.

One was from his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange; he tore into the wrapping and opened the box to find yet another book on the dark arts. He rolled his eyes and chucked the book into the chair, knowing that Hermione was watching him very closely just a few feet away.

He tore into the second package, knowing for a fact that it was from his father, and opened the box to find a dagger with a piece of parchment wrapped around the blade. He took the dagger in his hand and unraveled the letter from it.

_Draco,_

_Your silence has not gone unnoticed as you have hoped. Your time to join the ranks is fast approaching. Start preparing yourself to serve your master; this dagger will be very useful when we go into battle against Dumbledore and his ridiculous followers. _

_Make me proud, son._

_Your father,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco's seethed and he balled the letter into his fists. Blinded by anger for his father and Voldemort, he gipped the dagger at the handle and sent it barreling across the room.

Hermione let out a scream, ducking as the dagger swept by her and into the painting of Lady Pricilla. The dagger missed Hermione by a few mere inches, but Lady Pricilla wasn't as lucky and she gave a great cry and rushed from her painting into that of Lord Shepherd.

Draco's narrowed his eyes at Hermione as he tried to figure out why she had screamed before realisation of what he had done dawned upon him. He took a deep breath and was at her side before he even had time to rationalise with himself what his actions meant t.

"Are you okay?" His voice held the panic he felt and he placed his hands atop her shoulders, gripping them. Her face was white and her breathing erratic.

He stood rooted to the spot as she reached for his forearm. At her gentle touch, all his conscious thoughts left and all he could focus on was her touch and her breathing. He knew this was wrong and the little nagging voice in his head was arguing the same, but for the first time in his life he went with what he felt, instead of what his head was telling him to do.

"What in the name of Heaven did you do that for?!" she suddenly cried, backing away from him as her hand came to her mouth. Her eyes were wide with fear and something else that he'd never seen cross her features before.

He shook his head, not knowing if he could answer her question as to why he had did what he did, and backed as far away from her as he could. Quickly, he decided that he had to get out of there. He mumbled a quick apology and a message that he was going to the library before he darting from the common room, leaving Hermione to clear up the mess he had left.

Draco ran a hand through his hair as his footsteps echoed through the corridors. He couldn't believe he just did that - apologised to her! He was a Malfoy and -

And dammit, he cared for her.

He stopped dead in his tracks as the weight of his thoughts bared down upon him.

There was no denying it. Somewhere in his fucked up head, he cared for her.

As stupid as it sounded, he knew it was true. He knew not how or when it happened, but if had.

"This will not be made known," he whispered to himself. "I don't care. Well I _do _care, but that's not for her or anyone else to know. Ever."

He gave a grunt and opened the doors of the library, marching through the place as if he owned it. He had planned to research the _Placidus Casus_curse later in the day, but after the events in the common room, he was going to get an earlier start. His favourite table awaited him in the back of the Library and he made his way around the many shelves looking for the books he thought would contain the answers he was looking for. He threw them on the table with a loud thud and flopped into the high back chair whilst opening the book nearest him.

* * *

"What a lovely Christmas this has turned out to be," Hermione muttered, repairing the torn picture of Lady Pricilla. 

"The day is still young, my dear," spoke Lady Pricilla, giving a small nod of her head when Hermione looked at her. "Christmas day 'tis the day when all faults are forgotten and hopes for a better tomorrow. It's the day of hope, love and celebration. Try not to look so glum, Miss Granger, 'tis a happy day and you should enjoy it."

Hermione gave a faint smile. "I would be happy if I had Harry and Ron," she mumbled.

"You'll all three be together soon. I'm sure of it, my dear."

"I hope you're right," Hermione whispered, checking the common room for anymore debris from Malfoy's fit.

Her eyes fell upon the picture frame she had been holding earlier and a sound between that of a hiccup and a sob escaped and she rushed towards it, reaching out and pulling it protectively to her chest. Her sobs echoed throughout the room and she fell into a nearby armchair, rocking back and forth with the picture wrapped in her arms.

If this was supposed to be the day when all were happy and carefree, why was it that she felt as though there were a huge gaping hole in her heart?

* * *

_Placidus Amentis: A mixture of the Amentis root and the wax of a whale; it produces a crème that can cure measles. It can only be used once in a wizards' lifetime as it is highly toxic and if used again it will result in a very painful death…._

Draco Malfoy let out a sigh as he continued to skim through the list of all things beginning with _Placidus_. Who would have ever thought there'd be so many? He was down right annoyed and hungry. It was already noon and he had yet to eat anything. He'd been through over half the books he'd retrieved from the shelves and not a single one held the information he was looking for.

He picked up another book and skimmed the index searching for anything that mentioned the curse.

"_Placidus Amentis, Placidus Bantook, Placidus Boral, Placidus Casus!!_… About fucking time!" He turned to the page listed, pulled his chair to the table and set the book out in front of him, his index finger following the words on the page.

_Placidus Casus: _

_Pronunciation: Pla-see-dus Cas-us_

_An ancient curse dating from Egypt during the Late Period (400 B.C. – 332 B.C.) It is unknown who created this curse. After its creation, it was used for only a few hundred years before it disappeared. However, the curse was discovered again in 1983 by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_Effects: The curse grasps at the insides of its victims and quite literally squeezes the insides, causing sharp, icy pains that can leave the victim in a state of either unconsciousness or in some odd cases the victim may be in a trance-like state. However, in a few remarkable cases, the victim experiences very little to no pain at all, but will eventually suffer the fate of death. _

_Anti-dote: The counter curse to the Placidus Casus must be performed by someone who has been exposed to the Dark Arts. The potion is to be brewed on the night when the old year crosses over to the new one and administered to the victim along with the spell._

_For more information on Placidus Casus and its counter curse, see "Victor Monrose's, Vials of Death"._

_Planctus Dracill:, a well known plant with highly susceptible roots. It's used as an agent in helping cure common foot fungus… _

"Dammit!" Draco's fist connected with the table, causing it to rattle and a few books to tumble to the ground. "Oh yes, that was really fucking helpful. Stupid_fucking _book."

He tossed the book on the table with the other scattered books, then hopped up and marched to the reference desk, looking up _Victor Monrose's, Vials of Death._ He searched under every possible category he could think of, but each came up with the same result – fuck all.

"What's the point of having a book that mentions it without its companion?! Damn this school." He ran a hand through his hair, kicked the table, and groaned out loud.

There was only one way in which to get the book.

His father's library.

* * *

"Miss Granger?" 

Hermione looked up to see her Head of House standing over her, a worried expression etched in the older woman's wrinkles. Hermione wiped her eyes and pushed her hair away from her face.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" She stood as she spoke.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Minerva McGonagall placed a calm hand on the younger woman's shoulder. In all the years that she had known Hermione Granger, she had never seen the girl look so distraught and emotional. Hermione was the one that everyone turned to for leadership and guidance when things went wrong, and now Minerva could see that it was she who needed someone to look to and help her this time.

"Yes, Professor, I'm alright." She tried to give a small smile.

With one look at the girl in front of her, Professor McGonagall could tell that Hermione was anything but "alright". Her eyes were red and glass, and her hair was in disarray, however the professor gave no indication that she had noticed this.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at her teacher, surprise on her face at hearing her use her first name. Professor McGonagall had never called her that before.

The older woman gestured for Hermione to sit down, and when she finally did, Minerva sat beside her. She wasn't sure how Hermione would take the news she was about to give her, so all precautionary measures were to be taken.

"Hermione, there's been some news." Minerva spoke very slowly as Hermione looked at her. "Mr. Weasley has been found."

* * *

_I know it has been a long wait for this chapter, and I apologize for it, but real life got in the way and this chapter was probably the second hardest that I'm going to have to write for this story. The other will be in about five or so more chapters, maybe more. But, I finally got this out and I know I left it at a cliffehanger, but it needed to be done! :D I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter and please drop a review. If you have questions about anything leave them in your review and I will answer them in the next chapter._


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